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About Me

My photo

 My story may shock you, but then again your situation may be worse. Delve in and find out....
The best moments are the ones when, that affect people positively and inspire them to laugh and live. 
             But is this, the entire story?
 The Human experience is Unique and every person has something to give, you just need to see it from my perspective and I craft words, actions and events from this very human angle.

Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

Popular Posts

Saturday, 31 December 2016

Yanked Baby's Hands Off Womb And Tried To Cover Up


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 96

   The spawning of new life, takes time. It’s a mixture of good health, good diet and two beings of opposite sex, traditionally merging to forge a new being. The in-betweens, are rarely documented or captured. What matters is that, as the child grows, there’s hope of good health with no horrid challenges. And as I wait, for my baby to come to full term, I, a proud mother goes to the hospital, to deliver the child. Pain engulfs my every human cell, but I will not give up. I listen to the midwife and nurses and I count on their experience to bring my new child safely into this world. Prayers plagued my mind as I cry onto the Lord, as I will bring this child, morally upright and birth a genius. Hopes are on the father, now lost and absconded, to return and face his responsibility. Little does my naive mind and self know the first hand horror, I would be marked with, for life. The baby isn’t coming out and I am afraid, the doctor’s might recommend a c-section. I have no worries against the modern marvel, what scares me is the price required to do the procedure. The dollar is almost five hundred now, or so I am told. And my job is, I... I cook for brick layer’s and make maybe two thousand on a very good day. Which isn’t very common. I’m worried and I can tell from the look on the nurses that something is terribly wrong. The nurse helping my baby out, reassured me that my son will come out soon as she grabs his tiny arm, I wait. A very strange sound, echoes in this room and then, to top it all up, I heard a haunting gasp in the room. I feel a gush of liquid between my legs, but have faith that I am in experienced hands.
 Thousands of possible ways, today could have gone has plagued my turbulent mind. The sound and gasps of people hoping to see my miracle, come out of me. But, this is not my own story.
You don’t have to tell me what has happened, I knew. I start to scream and try to sit up. But the other nurses hold me down. I endure hands invading my womb, as I hear them say, I have lost the child. Try, to save my firstborn child, I beg them. But, the tears down the youngest nurse, tells me that I am hoping for a lost cause, almost all my hope is gone as they cluster around me. Death should have taken me instead, as I watch the nurses in horror.  They wrap and cover him and I try to carry his limp body. My boy, the son I should go home with, is dead. I want to unwrap and hold him, but the fuss and screams from the nurses, scare me. Is he deformed, are his limbs not present?  Questions, I ask as they, quickly cart away my lifeless child. No, I will not helplessly, lay flat and cry. I fight and try to stand and cannot believe, the amount of blood around my hips. Is this what giving birth feels like. What do I tell my mother, that warned me not to date or have a baby out of wedlock? Would my baby's daddy’s mother, rejoice? Now that I no longer have her son’s son? What happens now? Hours pass and I am numb and still crying and still in shock. Until the doctor’s rush in, shaking his head. Is my son alive, has he risen like Lazarus? It’s all I want to hear, a miracle. My mother rushes in after him, she loves me after all. Because, she never misses a chance to sell her secondhand clothes or for profit. I stop thinking and I grab her and wail, as if I just got the news. We both cry, until the doctor cannot take it anymore. He does not have good news instead, he  speaks words that stab at my aching heart. The nurse is hiding behind the other nurses and stamping her feet with arms folded over her head. I’m still trying to understand what he just said , to me. In my simple mind, I decided all he said to mean…. That the nurse, Yanked Baby's Hand Off Womb And Tried To Cover Up. Words were missing from my lips and in my head, the doctor had a moral obligation to tell me. I did not say or hear anything else from that moment. All I know is that I was biting at the nurses arm, and trying as much as possible to rip it from its ball and socket joint..
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Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Extradited And Convicted Yet Celebrated


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 95

    The first time you crash land here, you can’t help but feel despair. Carcasses, they say line the streets with broken dreams. Too exhausted to move from trying and screaming into your ears about efforts long gone and forgotten. Raging words directed at Agberos, ever ready to feast and work and earn from extorting those that we've the masses. Do I sound like I am praising them a bit? Just look at them, those that care for their outward look and do not shout, the presentable ones. Versus those that have no care for their hygiene and have scars and mouths, absent of teeth. There is a lesson there and it's called packaging. Never stop or look confused, it’s a sure formula for doom. Step out from your fumbling chair, your comfort zone and do something, anything. Get into the captain’s ship. Act like an enraged man with a whip. You’ll be fine; today you are the lion in your den. No one will dine, on you a former frightened little lost hen. Oh yes I forgot the carcasses are all around you. Racing like you to catch a one way ticket to doom. Change your destiny, grab the bull by its oversized razor sharp horn and fight. Never give up, just look in the news, but don't be confused. Yes, you read it riggt. Extradited And Convicted Yet Celebrated, help me understand this mayhem this madness my people are displaying. It's called conditioning, you have been brainwashed to celebrate bad girls, to admire bad boys, to vote for the loudest critic and rejoice with the enormous looters. Deceit has made the sting like honey from a viper. And as it Swims swiftly in your veins, all around. I can’t help but wonder, why I cannot have a second of fame and fortune, okay I'll settle for riches.
How quickly I ran away from all that is wrong, and my reward is a life of torment and failed efforts. I'm tired of saying, I’ll stay here and get it. Even though it floats away from my grasps. It’s here, where I’ll make it. That’s what they all say, right? How come I didn’t see her, buried beneath all that disguise. Now I know she’s a joker, for her venom sweet and kosher. I’m tired but I’ll go on. Don’t mind if it takes long, must stand and pay the price.Get going take a flight, maybe they are waiting for me. But I'm not in denial, nothing is for free. Like honey from a viper, I'll endure it all. After all, I have learned there's no way forward. Swim swiftly all around, as I unapologetically become this version of me.

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Sunday, 25 December 2016

Christmas And The Lagos I love to love


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 94

    It's hot and the power supply is absent. The weather boils Like a volcano cooling by the sea. Everything has changed and it seems like the Christmas is cooling and forging itself into something else in this new world. And the change is commanding millions and enticing everyone to do something. The question is what? I know for sure, that the Lagos I love will never disappoint. And for every drop of hope you give, you capture and lure more to you. Just like a bee to nectar. But all the glitz and glamour is not without its woes. Like Santa losing its hat and putting on a gele and catching your eyes and attention. You will never change. For today, your rage slices like an earthquake. I see you shift and split, revealing the greed men have hidden. But why today?The temporary home collapsed with uproars from those trapped in it. Digging deeper into the earth only guarantees your height, as prayers rise high and pray for some or all o survive. Then a fire rages from a tired generator set. Spreading Like rainfall who is she? Fighting to take lives, snatching my lover with sharp claws. The Drowning cries from the less fortunate, the paupers, rise and float like decaying wood on a stagnant lagoon. Like lovers on a rock, banished until I make my dough of hope, rise again. Uplifting the faithful paying for our actions, the question is what's the price? I need to add flight, Like feathers on a cock, kneading with tired hands, as I try to get used to knuckles for my throne. Shifting and swaying until it buckles and buries them all. But I won't stop myself from enjoying my hard work or let alone the bad news drown me. Again, like nectar I suck, spitting out the secret for me alone and all that have heard to pray and hope for the best. As survivors stay for there’s nowhere else to go...

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Wednesday, 21 December 2016

64 Babies Stolen And The Truth Is Still Fuzzy


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 93

  The spurs of life, aim to regenerate and duplicate itself for better or for worse, right? And as it travels through time and space, the obstacles in its way and vehicles conveying it, collide, until one outweighs the other. Such is the need to survive to keep the specie alive and to replicate ourselves. Man is unique in this sense, we don’t just try, we strive to do this with ease. In my case, I did it easy, well like they say.. I chop clean mouth, as in. We were both teenagers in love, in hidden corners praying we won't get caught. For where? All my friends did it too, but my own frolicking, my own journey yields twins. The first since my great grandmother on my mother’s side. Did I set out to procreate, no. I am in the family way with no source of income, the father is a distant cousin fortunate to be sent to school by generous relatives. And just as I believe I am doomed to be stuck here in a forgotten village, my uncle has a solution. Yes, go with him to a unique church. Not the one I attend in the village ooo. They must not know that I have lost my virginity. I am after all, choir mistress and my mother, mummy church. This my sin, I must hide and disguise under education. I am going to Lagos to further my education, that’s what I tell everyone. But in reality, I am going to have my babies. I have not been to any hospital, but I have missed my period and my belly is perfectly round. They kick at different times. And move and play in my womb, last night everything changed. I stopped feeling one of them and the village midwife says she recognized the problem. I have to have them immediately. Luckily, my uncle from Lagos attends a unique church. With seventeen thousand Naira I can have them, easily. My mother has because of me, done the unthinkable. She has dipped her hand and borrowed from people who trust her. The total amount is fifty thousand Naira, my transport and feeding and health center, unique church money. To hide my shame, which is her shame, she has stolen money and I can tell she is devastated. Just before we got to the motor park, she insists we go and confess to our head pastor. I beg her not too, I have lied to everyone already and her confession would expose me. Did she hear me? No. What do you think was the outcome? It was not good, at all at all. My mother had lied and stolen for the first time in her life because of me, a lustful daughter of Eve. Her punishment was that, she will forfeit six months salary and must go on a dry fast for two weeks. You see why, my secondary school boyfriend easily deceived me. I am surrounded by confused, controlling brainwashing tyrants. My mother is too skinny and fragile to fast. Do I have the guts to challenge them? No. Is this the worse of my troubles? No. I leave the village and get to Sango Ota in Lagos and cannot walk again. My uncle carries me into the old dilapidated building. Two women received me, a nurse and the head pastor. They have a stove with hot water and scissors and all sorts in It, there is a glove box and plenty cotton wool. It feels like there are two stones inside me, none of them are moving and I want my mother’s voice to console me. I shut both legs tight and refuse to push any further. Not as if I was actually pushing, I’m so exhausted. My uncle knows I will do nothing until I hear her voice. Instead of my mother's voice, I hear my village pastor. He is talking and praying, I am grateful but I just need to hear her voice. As I do, I feel better and energy surges into my teenage body. I choose to survive and I place gentle hands over my belly and declared that they will be fine. I hear the first baby cry and then the second. Tears of joy escape from my mouth and I stretched to hold them. I see it’s a boy and a girl and vow to work and be a good example to my children. Only, the nurse runs out with my daughter and my uncle follows her. I try to stand, but the owner of the makeshift health center and pastor stops me. Hold your son and be grateful, were words she told me. I do not understand the gravity of what she is saying. Your daughter is dead, it was not a laughing matter. Yet I laughed, then show me her body, I declared. Their answer, the one they gave me, is unsatisfactory to me. So I get bullied, cleaned up and warned not to say a word. I stare hard at the man my mother, handed me over to. The man, my uncle who is supposed to protect me. I stand when they least expect it and see money change hand’s. They have sold my daughter and I will not be silent. My own baby is the last they will try to steal. it is a struggle and I have cried to police stations, media houses and people are listening. I have no money, but the will to reunite my children fuels me, sympathizers have helped. Mother's whose babies have been stolen have come out to support me. And in all, 64 Babies Stolen And The Truth Is Still Fuzzy. So the truth isn't as clear cut as it seems, there are signs of cracks and jaggers in between. It is bitter sweet, but I will not be silenced and neither should you.
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Saturday, 17 December 2016

Forget Regret And Listen To The Boy Inside The Wall


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 92

    To stay with you forever, is my naive idea of true love. Though, I'm Looking forward to becoming savvy. I Know that, eventually Success will be mine. I'm learning quickly, becoming visually Prepared. Hoping beyond hope that, I'm never impaired By Attitudes of Despair Only Neglect And simple regret Of days without Reading Feeding and Willing To study The body Of purposeful Goal's. My goals are Designed to prepare You and I, For a life full And Purposeful. So stay awake And Bake With the right ingredients. Yes, And we will both get there in no time. Entwined in our love, with our arms wrapped around each other. I seriously pray that I'm never impaired My Attitudes of Repair. Only Reflect Amp middle Eaglet Of days charged up with me flying Feeding and building a life with you. Say A Lot Of Prayers because I Need to get off the Layers Piled up from Trying Hard, Keep me from feeling Sad. And Yet, you Ask me Why? My answer is that. I'm the master of my Universe. Yet You Challenge me, all the time. Just let me, make my own decisions. So that I can accept that finally,  I'm as Free as A Bird. Don't Ask me Why? Just listen.. Forget Regret And Listen To The Boy Inside The Wall. What? That faint but distant voice... Am I dreaming? Actually, I was daydreaming about life with my beautiful husband. But, there it is again. It sounds like a distant voice. Faint and almost absent of life, but from inside this ancient house built by my forefathers. Is that possible? My paranoia has escalated, for sure. Can you hear it? Listen, I think it's coming from there. I think, it's in the wall. There it goes again, I place my ears against the wall aging wall, absent of paint. I realize that I am no longer alone. The owner of the house is watching me. My only maternal uncle, still living on our ancestral grounds looks at me and nods his head. There is no need to pretend, he has caught me red handed. Ask me what my uncle has to say. He has gone to get a hammer, yes a hammer. And for the first time, in a long time I am afraid. I do not know if i will live to confirm the story that my uncle uses human beings for sacrifice is true. Na die I dey.....

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Wednesday, 14 December 2016

Million Boys Robber's Are Intimidating Residents Now


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 91

  A bleak sunset reflects over the sad murky lagoon, infested with shrubs and mangrove, stuck and rooted behind my mingy home. Time is slowly but swiftly moving and drawing close, the hour I dread. A wise woman would escape and hide but a lonely one has no where to go to. Should my home be a source of worry, should I not just pack up and leave? What a wasted life I have lived, with so many opportunities come and gone. I should have taken them all, now I fear it's too late. I may not survive this night of terror. If only I had accepted the offer from that randy man, my former boss, maybe I would have earned enough to escape this hell hole. Instead, I was laid off, sacked, along with those that the company did not need anymore. I am a good girl, the good girl who can't afford to live in a good place. Now, I wait and listen. Ironically, not even my neighbors lazy noisy dog barked. The noisy German Shepherd was warned or drugged into submission, the last of its litter. The lone survivor of these regular and embarrassing onslaught. Isn't fear just the strongest tool in the world? It makes a mouse of a brutal dog and a chicken of an eagle. Even the security men are quiet. The vigilante's make shift gong, the rim of a tyre, hanging by a metal thread and slowly dangling and swaying, has seized. On a normal night, at the stroke of midnight a metal rod would hit the rim and reverberate deep into the night. Not tonight though, not a single sound escaped and echoed all around. It's past midnight and in all my six years living here, this has never happened before. Suddenly, there is a ruckus and at first, it mimics crowd of pilgrims out to convert people in an entourage. But I know better, no good is coming from the noise outside. For two days now, I've been waiting. Two nights of mayhem that my mind has conjured up. Not tonight, tonight is real. The screams of the poor vigilante fills the air, as his shakabula releases three gun shots. There is a retaliation of bullets, I count ten and cover my mouth and cry. Million Boys Robber's Are Intimidating Residents Now, yet no one is doing anything. Two days ago, they left a note on my dilapidated car. The car that the shaft is condemned and the tyre's are old. No body suspected that of course, but spotting the note made me scream. A crowd gathered as I read the words that scare me.
'We are coming, prepare your cash, phones and valuables. Do not be home if you have nothing of value or you will loose your life'
 Did I report this to the police? Yes.
 Did security presence increase? No. Instead, those that could leave this part of Ajegunle, have done so. I have no family to run to and my salary of twenty thousand Naira is currently on my table. Waiting to be extorted away by hoodlum's, by young lazy ass thieves. Unfortunately for my friend, she arrived just ten minutes ago. She has ten thousand naira on her and hides her phone in the door compartment of my broken down fridge. There is no escaping these men that number up to thirty, wielding machete's, daggers and guns; Shooting sporadically into the air as they approach my home. My mingy apartment, the only thing I can afford. The sad realization hit me, that my home is only a paper house, easily penetrated by thieves, liars and ridiculously expensive landlords. Where else am I going to go to, now that my hard earned cash has been yanked from my hand's? Taking me back to zero...
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Saturday, 10 December 2016

Trapped In Amber Like A Giant Dinosaur's Tail


"ADE'S JOURNAL' 90

      Molars stand erect in an even row with no need for incisors in the world of a herbivore. And more so, where four functional limbs assist and help one move about, why do I need a tail? I wonder. What's paramount on my aching mind and empty stomach is the fact that the food supply is getting shorter, literarily I mean. Or should I say, is getting higher up. I try and fail to reach that which will quench my hunger. Em, and now it alk makes sense. To stand on all four, does not help. So I stretch and it's almost in my grasp as I wobble and try not to fall. Many before me fell and failed to rise again. Only their bones litter the place, their stainless skeletons now eon's old. Now I see the need for my tail. And as I scratch and stretch, this time, my tail helps my balance. I taste the fresh shoot between my jaws and do not wobble or fall. And my useless incisors anchor into the branches and drag more leaves my way. The scars I leave in the branches, release yellow resin from my favourite Coniferous tree. The sap only fuels my hunger and makes me salivate and want more. Finally, I won't have to worry about starving to death and I gobble up some more food. Although, someone needs to tell these pests that think they can make a meal out of me. That, my skin is too tough for most carnivores to try, although the cubs and puppy of all these irregular creatures all around me keep trying. When it tickles too much, I toss them away and some remember and stay away. But those cute cuddly stubborn kittens never learn. And somehow they are getting bigger and bigger by the litter even though fewer. Come to think of it, I'm all alone in this beautiful garden of Eden. Where is everyone? I chew and chew on the leaves that have an iron taste to them. The earth rumbles again and snaps the trees into two. Quietly, I rest back on all fours and give my tail a rest. The yellow resin from my favourite tree flows over my beautiful tail. Only, I am in shock. My beautiful Eden, the half of the garden is gone into an endless abyss. I see a raging fire erupting from the earths core and continue to chew on my delicious treats. I should run right? I turn and see, a sea of yellow resin flow my way. All at once from snapped trees, making my escape hard. More of the earth is cracking and larger trees too. I try to swim away and think of how history will remember me. Which part of me will survive, will not melt away in this heat. And the words that haunts me are the very words used, today. Beside several ant holes with me buried deep beneath, never to be seen ever again.
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Wednesday, 7 December 2016

An Empty Shell Dumped In A Cesspit


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 89

    Grunting hard and deep, knowing that life's no longer mine to keep. I smile at my burdened mother, give my frustrated brother a side eye and use the little strength left in me to look at my little sister. And ask, without speaking, was it all worth it? The memory of all our beautiful laughter, the agape love we shared, all replaced by an unending despair. A fear that lingers, and has built up for years and years as it morphed into painful tears. I drift into a brief coma and out of it. Regrettably, I hear them cry and beg the Lord to take me. Lord knows I try. I have swallowed all kinds of poison to make their prayer's come true. But my frail body rejects it all and now, I am an old man. Not yet forty though, but bed ridden none the less. This time, I know it's time to vacate this world. The calls and whispers from death, lures me to its cold embrace. Guilt ridden, my sister stops grumbling and wipes the foam from my mouth. I even overhear them arguing about borrowing more money to bury me. How cruel this world is, please quickly take me away quietly and end the pain I have inflicted on my family. You would not believe it, but as if a kind of mercy, heard my cries. I breathe one last time and float upwards, towards peace. And as I look down on my family, I notice that they have wrapped me up in all my sweat and emptiness. Oh, how precious life once was, plagued by horrible, body wrenching epileptic seizures. All now a distant memory, I think. Alas, my trauma has no end. Maybe I am sentimental about my former body. But as I watched in horror,  I can't help but ask who these people are. They lift me, and, and... I am but, An Empty Shell Dumped In A Cesspit just behind a place I once called home. Still shocked by what or why they just did what they did. Wait ooo, am I now a secret, they think they can hide? The joke is on them, because days later... The stench of their wickedness engulfs everyone and leads them back to me. The secret is out and the world will forever judge them for, not how they suffered and endured and borrowed to keep me alive. No, but for how they treated me in the end. Like a fig tree, stripped of all it's green as they grow and go on with this stigma, forever on their conscience...
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Saturday, 3 December 2016

A Frank New Approach From A New Perspective


"ADE'S JOURNAL", 88

     Bubbles form, numbering up to hundred's of thousands of white layers. Just like fluffy white butter icing on top of soapy clear water. It's purpose is crystal clear, as dirty laundry has piled up, way up high and it's time to clean up. This is after all, the last month, of the year 2016. So I am preparing my mind body and soul for A Fresh New Start. A Frank New Approach From A New Perspective, to a brand new life. My life, with me taking more control and responsibilities for my decisions and actions. Starting from this moment on, starting with the truth. The question is, what is the truth? I am anxious, I have made plans this year and the clock is ticking fast and I'm not sure if I can achieve any more of my goals. And that very thought, scares me and makes me all shaky and sweaty. Especially since my past keeps creeping up ad catching up with me. As if, whispering to me... You can't escape the inevitable. And that my dear journal, is not going down well with me.

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